


Live Fast, Love Hard

by Tentaculiferous



Series: Prowl x Jazz 10th Anniversary Challenge Fics [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Co-workers, Coercion, Double Pregnancy, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Forced Marriage, Fraternization, Friends to Lovers, Impregnation, Loving Marriage, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mechpreg, Mpreg, One Night Stands, Other, Propaganda, ProwlxJazz10thAnniversary, Slut Shaming, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: A night of drunken passion leads to the worst outcome ever...pregnancy. Not just one, but two. This is why your progenitor always said to pick being a bottom or a top and stick with it.Now Prowl and Jazz have to deal with angry fellow officers (mostly Ultra Magnus) and society's outrage. There's only one thing left that can salvage the situation...doing the right thing, no matter how bitter a pill it is to swallow.





	1. Breaking the Rules/Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought about the potential for, in a society where people have the same reproductive capabilities, there would be the potential for both (or all, in poly) sexual partners to become pregnant at the same time. 
> 
> And how that could lead to couples sticking to designated Top or Bottom roles, to avoid the possibility of a double pregnancy (which in a primitive society would probably lead to less offspring surviving). Society, being society, would come out in all its shaming glory for anyone who ignored that taboo. 
> 
> This fic was born from that pondering. 
> 
>  
> 
> " _I want to live fast, love hard, die young, and leave a beautiful memory_ " -Faron Young

Carrying a newspark while actively serving in the Autobot forces broke so many rules it gave Prowl a processor ache to think of.

"Rules were made to be broken, Prowl." Jazz said, shrugging.

"No they were not! That is explicitly _not_ what rules are created for. They're created to be _obeyed_." Prowl said, exasperated.

"Guess it's just a glass half full, half empty sorta thing." Jazz said. 

It so _wasn't_ but Prowl was tired of arguments that were like chasing a cyber-rabbit down a hole. They went through endless twisting routes that seemed to go nowhere. It was always like this with them. Of all the mechs to have gotten sparked, it had to be _Jazz_.

"I can't make an exception for someone I possibly sparked. That would be a conflict of interest." Prowl said. 

"Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed, mock-gasping. "Possibly? Are you implying I am a mech of loose morals, and this ain't your baby?" 

"I distinctly recall Bumblebee being there that night." Prowl said. 

"Aww, the Bee didn't do anything. Not with ME anyway. Though I'm not surprised you don't distinctly recall that, given how much high-grade you sloshed down at the party..." 

Prowl's doorwings twitched, irritated at the reminder of his rare lapse in propriety. 

"Anyway..." Prowl said, "This will have to be approved by Prime, and Ultra Magnus."

"Wait, Ultra Magnus?" Jazz straightened up from leaning sexily against Prowl's desk. A serious expression replaced his usual easy-going smile. "Why him? Ain't Prime the ultimate say-so?" 

Prowl held back a smirk at the undercurrent of worry he heard in Jazz's voice. Oh, it was nice to not be the only one dealing with the stress and risks of this kind of thing. Jazz seemed to breeze through every orn without a care. But Ultra Magnus could get anyone's cybergoat. If anyone would balk and object to the special exemption Jazz was requesting, it would be him. And he might even get the Prime to agree to reject it. 

That wiped any mirth off Prowl's face. As much as it amused him to picture the irrepresible Jazz, sparked up and grounded at base, the mech was absolutely vital to the war effort. He could not be put on leave for the entire duration of a carrying cycle.

"Don't worry about Ultra Magnus, Jazz. I will make him see reason." 

"Pffft. If that's not the irrisistable force meeting the unmovable object." Jazz said. 

"Irrisistable force?" Prowl asked. "I thought it was the unstoppable force?" he thought of the old paradox.

"Hmm. I meant what I said." Jazz said, winking. "Despite what rumors say (and I started most of 'em), I don't let just anyone in my panel." 

With that he sashayed out of the office with his usual flair, leaving Prowl shaking his head. Jazz was the only mech that could drive him completely out of his processor.

* * *

_One Month Ago_

Ooh, it was hot. Prowl almost drew his hand back, the heat of Jazz's panel almost felt like it was burning him. But he was eager, and pressed on. 

"Open...Open up." he slurred. 

With a coy look, Jazz retracted the panel, leaving Prowl looking at neat black folds, resplendant with shimmering clear lubricant. The thought didn't even appear in his processor; the urge to taste seemed to transmit directly to his body, making him lean forward to treat those folds to a salacious lick. 

Above him, Jazz giggled and shrieked, his legs squeezing Prowl. Not exactly the response he'd been going for. Prowl frowned. 

"Prowler! You didn't say anything about eatin' me." 

"Well, I would like to." Prowl said, confused and put out. He sat back, the floor of the Ark cold against his legs, and a little sobering. 

"It tickles too much!" Jazz protested. "Why don'tcha just spike me? Or I could spike you." he said. 

"Fine." Prowl said, sighing as if it were a great inconvenience. His spike throbbed in his hand as he guided it into Jazz's slick valve, finally getting the moans and appreciation he was seeking. 

Afterwards, they lay on the Ark floor, tangled together loosely. The party streamers swayed overhead as the air conditioning kicked on, sending a cool breeze through the room. 

Jazz snuggled up to him, seeking his warmth. Prowl allowed it. It was a bit chilly. It was when a hot hand teased at his valve folds that Prowl put a stop to it, grabbing Jazz's wandering hand. 

"I do not interface with my valve." Prowl said. 

"Well, why not?" Jazz asked.

"Because...because...huh." Prowl's overcharged mind struggled to think of a reason why. "I guess there is no reason not to."  
"Then let me show you just how wonderful a valve can be. After this, you're never gonna want to use your spike again!" Jazz promised.

Prowl sincerely doubted that, but Jazz's over-the-top promises were amusing. 

In the end, he hadn't forsworn his spike forever, but it had been amazing. Jazz's clever touches, and the feel of a thick spike filling him up, had set his body on fire in a way he hadn't felt before. It felt like he was burning up. There was definitely something to be said for being a valve mech.


	2. Tremble/Duet/Living and Loving

Prowl's hand trembled around the datapad it clutched. Ratchet had handed it to him, after a sarcastic "Congratulations. You're sparked.". Then the medic had stormed off to "sort inventory" or in other words, go throw things in the storage room. Two members of High Command, sparked up. Just what he needed. 

The trembling spread to Prowl's doorwings. Even his legs felt weak and shaky. This couldn't be. Yet the datapad in front of him held the damning evidence, spark readouts and scan images, all blurring together in front of his optics. 

The fallout would be tremendous.

Even if he were allowed to serve actively, he would almost certainly be restricted to base. Jazz, with his more clandestine and less overtly combative missions to carry out, might escape that limitation, but not Prowl. His efficiency would be greatly reduced, lowering their overall effectiveness. He needed to be out in the field to better command their troops. 

And the moral effect on the Autobot forces...It was one thing for the troops to see Jazz openly carrying a newspark without a bondmate—Jazz had a carefully-crafted image as a lovable scamp, a mech of loose morals but with a good spark. Prowl had no such persona to fall back on, and the loss of face he'd experience would be far worse. Unless...

Prowl could be persuasive when he needed to be. Now, he would have to see just how much of an "irresistible force" he really was. Breathing deeply, he focused on stilling the shaking and twitching of first his doorwings, and then his hands. His legs calmed on their own then. 

And with that, he was off to see Jazz. The "lovable scamp" was about to do the right thing, whether he liked it or not. There were bonding bells in his near future, Prowl could practically hear them.

* * *

They made a pretty duet, standing before their Prime. Nearly equal in height, with matching black, white, blue and red coloration. They were equally sparked, having conceived on the same night within an hour of the other. And they were equally miserable. 

Prowl could take some grim satisfaction, at least, in having gotten his way and partially salvaged this trainwreck situation with a bonding ceremony. They were in love, two High Command officers falling for each other through shared paperwork duties and a thousand command meetings. They would have bonded vorns ago if not for Autobot fraternization rules. How romantic. What slag. It made good propaganda though, and would make most of the troops forgive the scandal of them both getting sparked up. 

Jazz had no such cold comfort, having been manipulated, guilt-tripped, and practically ordered (by Prowl) to marry him. The usually sunny mech had reluctantly agreed, because he knew that Prowl was right: the Autobots weren't in a position to weather any blows to morale, any losses of confidence in officers. 

It would also make their case for exemptions more sympathetic. Ultra Magnus had reportedly been so worked up over their flouting of the Autobot Code that he was planning on coming to Earth to lay down the law. Only much soothing over video conference from Optimus had prevented that. Jazz had seen ole Mags mad enough to spit bullets before, but this was a whole new level of pissed. Jazz knew that he needed all the help he could get in avoiding the dreaded medical discharge. 

So they made a pretty picture for the troops, and for Magnus back in Cybertron, so that everyone but them could feel better about this situation they were in. Dread rose in Jazz's spark as Optimus rumbled out the ancient vows in a solemn tone. And when they leaned forward to kiss, sealing the pact, it felt like a cage had lowered down on him. 

Two melded into one. 

To raucous applause, the floor shaking from the gathered Autobots' pedes stamping in celebration, the two black and white mechs left the small chapel. They followed their Prime to a private chamber where, under his holy gaze, the permanent joining of their sparks would take place.

* * *

Being bonded to Prowl was....full of surprises, which Jazz hadn't expected. When they were merely coworkers, he had loved to rile the mech and flirt with him, but that was in part because Prowl seemed so boring and cold. The unapproachable, the unattainable, and the unflappable. All fine traits in a coworker, less fun to be married to. Or so Jazz had thought. 

Their marriage was less stifling and empty than Jazz had expected, and Prowl's "stuffy" traits instead were predictable and comforting. His fake, forced relationship with Prowl became something of a rock in an otherwise chaotic storm of a life. 

Prowl lived a clockwork life, arising at the same joor every morning, taking his morning energon to his office. He would leave the office for the evening after overworking for the same precise amount of hours (exactly what the mech had calculated he could get away with without prompting Ratchet to come visit him). Jazz could always find him when he needed him. 

He was also always on top of things. He had all the proper datapads on newsparks on a shelf in their room, borrowed from Ratchet. Before Jazz had even considering where their soon-to-arrive bitlets would sleep, Prowl had had a double crib constructed and placed in their room. 

Jazz no longer had to worry about cleaning up after himself, Prowl did everything. How a mech who worked 80% of the day found time to dust their room was beyond Jazz. He'd never caught Prowl at it yet. Despite that, their room was perpetually tidy, floors free of debris and decently polished. Dust accrued nowhere, and wayward objects always found their home once Prowl had been in the room. 

Another convenience was the sex. Prowl always seemed to be in the mood, if Jazz was. Instead of having to flirt up a mech and hunt for a good night's time, all he had to do was grab Prowl's aft in the morning when they woke up, or before they fell into recharge each night. He hadn't yet tried for a midday-break office quickie yet, but he had high hopes. 

Love was not something Jazz had ever believed in, but he found he liked this life. The bitterness of their situation was fading, and Jazz was finding himself glad it had happened. He wouldn't take back that night, or their bonding ceremony, for all of Cybertron.

Finally content in his spark, he snuggled in around Prowl's doorwings and slipped into recharge, dreaming of the day when two litle bitlits just like them would arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a "soft end". The fic could be considered done here, but I think I have a few more vignettes and slices of their life to show. Definitely some more of the societal issues with top/bottom roles, since that was only touched on lightly so far.


End file.
